Every poem one can make,

Every poem one makes
Adds to his or hers colors of mirth,
Every painting one makes
Gives one another birth,
The birth to know and feel blessed
The birth to be given to Supreme Kindness,

Every tune one can make
Can only one to a Garden take,
Where one keeps all of hers or his,
Where one feels that perennial bliss,
To be in poesy, in a rivery flow,
To be taken over by a windy blow,

And one's life becomes a life ever joyous,
Life becomes a Life Pious.

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